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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364028">I'm Dying</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard'>startrekkingaroundasgard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>31 Days of Ficmas 2020 [28]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Siblings, Sickfic, Teasing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:35:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>564</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five gets sick and comes to the reader in search of someone to look after him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) &amp; Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>31 Days of Ficmas 2020 [28]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'm Dying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m dying.”</p><p>You glanced up from your phone and sighed at the boy in your doorway. You’d chosen this house, almost three hours from the rest of them for a bit of privacy, but of course he had found you. It was only a matter of time before Five got annoyed with the others and tracked you down but you hadn’t expected him to turn up like this. Covered in blood and asking for medical assistance, maybe. But this? Never.</p><p>Five was wrapped up in at least three separate blankets, nose bright enough to rival Rudolph. His dark hair sat like a messy bird’s nest atop his skull and he shuffled into your room like a hundred year old man with arthritis in every joint. He looked the youngest you had ever seen him, the small and adorable outside well disguising the murderous insides.</p><p>A few steps in, Five sneezed – barely a dainty ‘achoo’ – but the space around him warped, bright blue lights illuminating your room, and he stumbled back through space like the dramatic bitch he was. As his back hit the wall, he cast a not-so-subtle glance your way to see whether you were paying him the attention he desired. It was funny; he liked to pretend he was different from the rest of you – that dear old Reg hadn’t screwed him up too – but he was just as emotionally stunted and needy as the rest of your siblings.</p><p>Shaking your head, you muttered, “You’ve just got a cold, Five.”</p><p>    “I’m <i>dying.</i>”</p><p>You set your phone down and leaned forward, elbows on knees and pointed out that he had in fact survived two apocalypses and lived an entire life in a hellscape world. “A little sniffle isn’t going to kill you. Just go home and get some rest. Pop some pills like everyone else and you’ll be fine.”</p><p>The air warped again and Five was suddenly sat on the end of your bed. Up close, you could see the genuine concern in his expression. You were the only one that he ever let his guard down around – probably because you had been the only one never to tease him when you were kids – and you knew how lucky you were to have his trust.</p><p>In his defence, he never had gotten sick before. He’d always been the one that avoided the flu when you were younger, already so distant from the rest of the family that he was never around the others enough to catch anything. And then, you supposed, that as he spent the years wandering around a broken Earth that there was no one else around to give him a cold at all. It was no wonder he didn’t know how to deal with it.</p><p>Rolling your eyes, you gestured to the mountain of cushions. “Make yourself comfortable, then. You hungry? What do you want: soup or a sandwich?”</p><p>Decidedly less pathetic than he had looked a moment ago, an annoying familiar expression on his face, the manipulative shit, Five curled up against the headboard and said, “Both.”</p><p>    “Magic word, bro.”</p><p>    “I can and will still stab you.”</p><p>That you didn’t doubt. With a cheery smile, honestly glad to see your brother again, even if you knew he would spend the next few days doing nothing but complaining as he got over his cold, you sung, “Both it is then.”</p>
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